Just This Once
by Pwnguin
Summary: Sam is hungry. Sam needs food. Sam has no choice. What could a plate of spaghetti, Mexican cornshells, and the last cookie of the batch possibly begin? Sam/Freddie.


**A/N: As most of you know, I'm neither a Seddie nor Creddie shipper. That doesn't mean I like both, it means I like neither. The fact that most people I know are Seddie shippers might pull me over to their side. Starting with this fic. I was so desperate to write another that I asked my sister for an idea, I didn't care what it was. She gave me a Loliver one. Not that I didn't like Loliver (trust me.. that's not it at all) but I thought it would be a lot more realistic with Freddie and Sam. Which is now leading me to believe that I'm a Seddie shipper. But I'm not. Yet.**

**I find it easier to write in first person, but I'm going to write in the third person this time, just to see how well I can do so.**

**Oh yeah.. I know I put up that poll on my profile... but I had to get this fic out there. It was just sitting here... waiting for me... So yeah, I closed the poll. I made that before I got a lot of ideas. xP  
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**Just This Once**  
by Pwnguin

Sam pounded her fists against Carly's door for the billionth time, hoping that someone would answer her loud knocks. She had returned from her 10th detention in a row, and was angry, tired, and hungry, definitely in the worst mood she could be in. It wasn't helping that no one would answer the door to her best friend's house. Throwing up her hands in defeat, she rummaged through her backpack for her cellphone and dialed Carly as quickly as possible.

"Hello?" Carly answered.

"Carly! I'm hungry!" Sam angrily screeched.

"So eat?"

"I can't! No one's answering the door at your house! CARLY! I need food and I need it now!" Sam wailed.

She could hear Carly laugh through the phone, "I thought I told you that Spencer and I were going to eat out after school."

"I don't remember."

"Well, yeah, you were throwing jellybeans into Gibby's shirt while I told you, so maybe that's why you don't remember."

Sam laughed, "Right. But that doesn't solve my problem! I'm HUNGRY."

"So go to McDonald's or something!" Carly suggested.

"Can't. I blew off all my money on a bunch of whoopie cushions and a plastic lizard."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to stick all the whoopie cushions in our desks during first period tomorrow," Sam said.

"What about the lizard?" Carly asked.

"It looked cool," Sam shrugged.

Carly laughed, "Why don't you go over to Freddie's place then?"

"HA. Like that's ever going to happen. Mrs. Benson might serve us organic tofu meatballs or something like that. Not gonna happen, Carly."

"Okay. Then you'll starve to death. Gotta go, the food's here. Have fun," Carly said, and with that, she hung up the phone.

"Carly?!" Sam yelled into the phone, "Carly?! Don't leave me all alone with no food! Carly?! NOOOO!" With a sigh of defeat, she closed her phone. Then she eyed the Benson's front door. She had three options: starve to death, steal money from a hobo, or knock on the door.

Finally Sam gave in and knocked on the Benson's door. Before she could change her mind and run away, Freddie appeared at the door.

"Sam?" Freddie said, shocked. "What are you doing here?"

"Listen, I've been sitting here for the past 7 minutes starving my head off. Do you have anything to eat?" Sam asked.

"Uh, yeah, my mom just made some spaghetti and cook -"

"GREAT!" Sam exclaimed, and marched right into Freddie's condo.

Freddie rolled his eyes, "Most people would wait to be invited in!" Then he remembered that this was Sam. He sighed and shut the door.

Mrs. Benson placed two plates on the table along with two sets of silverware. She looked up, saw Sam, and wrinkled her nose. "Erm - hello, Samantha."

"Sup, Mrs. B," Sam grumbled out and took a place at the table. "Mind if I have dinner here?"

Mrs. Benson looked at Sam with a look of disgust. She looked to Freddie and said, "Excuse me, Samantha, I have to talk to my son."

Sam nodded mindlessly as she scooped some spaghetti on her plate. Mrs. Benson looked to her son and said, "I cannot eat with that monster at the table, Freddie."

"C'mon, mom. It's just Sam," Freddie protested.

"Forget it. I'm going to buy some groceries. Hopefully by the time I get back she'll be gone. Make sure she doesn't make a mess. Okay, Freddie?" she grabbed her purse, gave her son a kiss on the cheek, and walked out without saying goodbye to Sam.

Freddie walked to the table knowing that Sam couldn't eat without making a mess. But what did it matter. He sighed, took a seat at the table, and scooped some spaghetti on his plate.

Sam spoke with her mouth full of sauce and noodles, "Mmm, your mom makes the best spaghetti on earth... except Spencer. His spaghetti tacos are to die for." She continued shoveling spaghetti into her mouth. Freddie wondered if she was actually chewing the food.

"Hey, your mom got any taco shells?" Sam asked.

"Uh, I don't know, but they're meant for tacos..."

Sam didn't wait for an answer. She got up and searched through the cupboards in hope for Mexican cornshells. Freddie shook his head. His mother was going to kill him. He could've kicked Sam out, but, for some strange reason, he didn't want to.

Sam returned to the table with three taco shells, "Your mom doesn't mind, right?"

"Uh, yeah she will mind," Freddie said. "So could you put them -"

Of course, Sam didn't listen. She shoveled her spaghetti into the taco shell and took a bite, "You want one?"

Freddie sighed. Why fight? He liked spaghetti tacos, "Sure."

Sam handed him a taco shell and smiled in satisfaction, "How does that feel, Benson?"

"How does what feel?" Freddie asked as he placed a forkful of spaghetti into his taco shell.

"You know, using taco shells against your mother's intended use. Don't you feel the rush of doing something bad?" Sam smirked.

Freddie shrugged, "I guess. I mean, it's not like putting spaghetti into taco shells is against the law. I'm sure my mother won't notice." He bit into his spaghetti-filled taco and smiled.

"What is it about spaghetti tacos?" Sam asked as she pulled out a noodle of her taco and slurped it up, resulting in bits of pasta sauce covering her cheek. "What makes them so satisfying and delicious?"

Freddie didn't answer. Instead, he responded with a crunch of his taco.

Their meal continued with questions about their lives, how they should do the next iCarly, and the creepiness of Ms. Briggs. Dinner became desert, as they munched on Mrs. Benson's chocolate chip cookies, which, to Sam's surprise, didn't taste like crap.

"Mmm," Sam munched in delight, "These have to be the best cookies since... ever."

Freddie nodded, "Yeah, my mom's a magician when it comes to cookies."

The plate of cookies slowly disappeared until there was one cookie left. Sam reached for it, but a hand came in and slapped hers.

"Hey, what if I want the last cookie?" Freddie asked.

Sam laughed, "Freddie, I'm the guest. Treat the guest with respect."

Freddie scowled, "Sam, you ate practically 75 percent of those cookies. I think I deserve the last one."

She laughed, "Right... and you're not a dork." She grabbed the cookie, but before it touched her lips, Freddie grabbed her hand and pried the cookie out of it. He held it tight in his grasp.

"Sam, couldn't you let me have something once? Just this once. Please," Freddie begged.

Sam smiled, "See, I would. But that's not very Sam-like of me."

Freddie held the cookie to his mouth. He eyed Sam's piercing glare, "I'll do it Sam, I'll do it."

She growled, "You better not eat that cookie, Fredweird Benson!"

"Oh, I won't eat it. Not yet," Freddie smiled and slobbered his tongue all over the cookie. Every centimeter of it was covered in Freddie's spit. "Whatcha gonna do about that, Puckett?"

Sam's expression didn't change. She grabbed the slobbery cookie and shoved it into her mouth. Freddie's jaw dropped to the floor.

"Uh - ah - what - ..." Freddie stuttered. Sam gave him a smile.

"Tell your mom I said thanks, Freddie," she said, as she got up toward the door. Freddie's mouth stood agape as he watched her leave. He didn't know what just happened. All he knew was that Sam Puckett was definitely not invited for dinner at his place ever again.

... But maybe next time he'd be able to get the last cookie. He would be prepared that time... He smiled. He let her get away with stealing the last cookie. But that was just once. Just this once...

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**A/N: FINALLY it's finished. I wanted some real Seddie love in there, but I couldn't write it! I just couldn't imagine them doing anything except bicker and kill each other. Yeah. Not a Seddie yet. Not yet... Nope.**

**It used to be purple, but now it's green. You like green? Go click the green button... the pretty green button...  
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